Here We Go Again
by black-lightning82
Summary: He didn’t even do it on purpose this time. All he wanted was an apple. Now, Ryuk's own notebook has fallen into the hands of a human... here? Wait a minute! Here as in our world? *SPOILERS*
1. Impulse

Hello! I'm very sorry to have lost motivation for my 'Whistle!' story! I wrote and posted the next chapter but it's really shitty. I will try to work on it at the same time I'm working on this but I can't make any promises.

Anyhoo…about this story. I pretty much have everything planned out I just have to give it a setting and write it out. I will do my best to finish it! Also (very important) I will do my best to remain neutral and not let my personal opinion of Kira get in the way of the story.

Disclaimer: Listen up peoples. I won't say this for every chapter so here it is. I DO NOT OWN DEATH NOTE! Thank you.

Summary: AU-ish. He didn't even do it on purpose this time. All he wanted was an apple. Now, Ryuk's own notebook has fallen into the hands of a human... here? Wait a minute! Here as in _our world_? SPOILERS!

* * *

_**Chapter 1: Impulse**_

Ryuk gazed at the shriveled gray apple in his palm with mild distaste. The curse of the Shinigami Realm was really starting to piss him off….

Currently, the god of death was perched on a large boulder with a rapidly-shrinking pile of un-appetizing apples beside him and an expanding carpet of cores at his feet. Immediately after his last trip to the Human Realm there had been a buzz of discussion but it hadn't taken long for it to die. Now things had returned to normal and he found himself, once again, bored. Was he really supposed to just sit here for the rest of eternity?

Sighing, Ryuk found himself wishing he'd never gone to the Human Realm. Sure, he'd still be bored, but maybe he would have gotten used to it. Now, he didn't think he ever would. Besides, if he hadn't gone he never would have tasted the apples from the Human Realm. Maybe the one in his hand would taste as good as it used to.

Immediately, the shinigami discarded the thought. Even if he never tasted another one, the apples Light had given him were worth it.

_But he really wanted another one._

Every day it was becoming more and more difficult to heed the Shinigami King's orders. He was told of the torture he'd have to endure if he was caught in the Human Realm again. He hadn't exactly broken any rules last time. Sure, he'd bent them a little, but it was nothing to worry about, right? So why had he been punished?

That's what he'd thought at first. However, a month or so after he returned he'd met another shinigami and come up with a theory. Slowly, over hundreds of years, shinigami had died and disappeared. So where did the new ones come from? Perhaps they came from the humans who used the Death Note and died. Why would he think that, you ask? Simple. He had met Light. Light the Shinigami. The same Light whose name was currently written in his own Death Note.

Of course, he couldn't be sure. The shinigami didn't remember anything about the Human Realm. But Ryuk could tell it was him. He knew.

Ryuk sighed again. Light or no Light, he wanted an apple. A Human Realm apple. However, the Shinigami King would never let him through the portal and that was the only legit way to get to the Human Realm. Of course, there were several other, unstable, untested portals but he wasn't stupid enough to use any of them. …But he may be desperate enough….

Tossing the apple aside, the death god thought about who owed him a favor. Kinddara, perhaps? No, she was far too stupid to have discovered—let alone comprehended—any portal. The only reason she even touched her notebook was because she was out of life and could no longer gamble. Gukku? No, he was always gambling. He wouldn't find anything. It would have to find him. No, his best bet would have to be Zellogi. If anyone would have heard about one of these portals it would be him. Also, he would be least likely to inform the Shinigami King of his disappearance. He'd be watching Ryuk's little field trip with at least mild interest.

So… where _was_ Zellogi? Giving a small groan, Ryuk stood and stretched. His wings expanded with an impressive 'whoosh' and he was soon in the air. The barren landscape below was dotted with random skulls and interrupted occasionally by a couple three shinigami doing the only thing there was left to do here: gamble. It didn't take long for him to spot the snowy-white headdress. Deridovely and Gukku were with him.

Ryuk circled the small group a few times before landing nearby. Only Deridovely looked up from the game. "Oi! Ryuk! You look like you're looking for a bit of trouble." The 3 of them laughed.

Ryuk ignored them. "Zellogi, got a minute?"

"Yeah. Don't you guys try to cheat me while I'm gone! I know how much I've put down." The indian/pirate shinigami followed him beyond a little ridge. "So, what do you want?"

"I want a way to the Human Realm."

"To the south about half a kilometer, down into the canyon, and you'll find this big tunnel—."

"Not that one! Damn it, Zellogi, you know I can't go that way! The Old Man won't let me within a hundred meters of that tunnel!"

Zellogi chuckled. "So you want a discreet portal? One that the Shinigami King doesn't know about? One he hasn't regulated?"

"Exactly."

There was another chuckle. "I see. But why should I tell you? If the Old Man finds out I helped you break the rules, my ass is roadkill too you know." With a smirk, Ryuk reminded him of that one time he'd accidentally allowed a human to touch his notebook while stalking some woman. The kid spent the rest of his life in the loony bin. Zellogi scowled furiously at him. He'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble if anyone found out. So—still glaring—he shifted closer to Ryuk and began spitting directions his way.

Gukku and Deridovely watched as Ryuk took off and zipped by over their heads. Zellogi returned, trying to restrain a smirk. "Where is he going?" Deridovely made the equivalent gesture of raising an eyebrow.

"Don't ask." Zellogi allowed the game to finish quickly. He beat Gukku but allowed Deridovely to take the pot. Then, he too took off. Not in the same direction as Ryuk but fairly close.

_Don't try to blackmail me Ryuk. If you had kept that big trap of yours shut, maybe you'd be allowed to live. _In the Shinigami Realm there are no politics and ones only loyalty is to oneself. However, if there was one thing a shinigami would honor, it was an unpaid debt. Ryuk's blackmail would have been legit and extremely persuasive had it not been for one thing:

The Shinigami King already knew.

That's right, nothing escaped the Old Man. Shortly after Ryuk's return he'd been summoned. He could save himself from torture if he helped out with one thing: catching the gothic shinigami. The Old Man knew of Ryuk's rebelliousness. He knew he had to get rid of him. It was really the only way to keep the Shinigami Realm a secret like it always had been. He'd spilled far too many secrets last time and made a whole lot of work for the Old Man. He'd screwed up royally. Now, he would be punished.

Of course, the only way for him to be punished is if he was caught in the act. The portal Ryuk was headed to was very real and very stable. It would take him to the Human Realm. In fact, he should be there shortly. Zellogi's job was to inform the King of this. They would find Ryuk in the Human Realm and his mistake would be forgotten.

"Sorry Ryuk," Zellogi muttered to himself. "It's nothing personal."

* * *

Meanwhile, Ryuk was flying at a steady pace. He was approaching a small chain of mountains. He followed it to the left. Another 10 kilometers and he'd find a cave. He was to follow the cave deep into the mountain where a portal would be waiting.

Hold on…

Ryuk slowed and hovered, peering past a wall of rock to see a portal deep in the ravine between 3 mountains. He floated over and perched on a ridge that jabbed violently skyward above it. This portal….

He couldn't take his eyes off the thing. A normal portal was various shades of black and gray. This one had flashes of green, blue, and purple and the wind roared ferociously, tossing pieces of rock effortlessly. It didn't take an idiot to figure out that this portal was all wrong. It was unstable and dangerous, that much was obvious. Besides, you never knew where these kinds of portals would lead….

_But he couldn't leave._

That's right, it's not that he _wouldn't_ leave. He_ couldn't_ leave. To his horror, he began to move forward, to the edge of the ridge. Now, slowly, his inhibitions were fading. It's not so much that he wanted to go through the portal, he just wasn't against it anymore. A little voice in the back of his head was screaming and swearing at him and telling him he was an idiot.

He ignored it. Pulling his wings in to protect them from the wind, he jumped.

* * *

I hope you've enjoyed the story so far. I know this chapter is _really_ short but I promise the next ones will be longer! I just had to get the intro out of the way.


	2. Kira Returns

Okay peoples. Time for Chapter 2. Or maybe chapter 1. Anyhoo… I just got an idea so I had to rethink some of this chapter. So let's get started.

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_**Chapter 2: Kira Returns**_

_United States: Storm Lake, Iowa _

_May 25__th__ 2008, 3:13pm_

15-year-old Brooklyn Myers flinched as he was thrown roughly into a locker, the protruding metal handle knocking painfully into his spine. "Outta my way, Myers."

Brooklyn was a scrawny boy, barely 90 pounds, and had obtained a total accumulated height of 5' 4". He wore a stained pair of blue jeans and a green shirt that was perhaps 3 sizes too big. A pair of black-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, slightly crooked thanks to some of the more brutal beatings he'd endured. All together, this appearance was what marked him the school jocks' main target.

The jock he saw most frequently, who always came to him in times of stress, was the captain of the basketball team and the baseball team's star pitcher, Anthony Jacobson. Anthony was 6' 2" and built lean, easily towering over Brooklyn. He also had a nasty temper that had gotten him multiple technical fouls on the basketball court.

Pushing his glasses back up his nose, Brooklyn sent up a silent prayer, asking God for protection for the next 3 days. Then, school would be over and Anthony would graduate. Sighing and rubbing his spine, Brooklyn picked up his backpack and began weaving his way through the halls to the school parking lot.

Another thing that affected his reputation was his ride. He had his school permit and drove to school every day in his old, extremely rusted out, multi-colored, patchwork Buick. The seats were torn and some of the stuffing was beginning to come out, the passenger side door was dented from when a deer had run into the car rather than the other way around. This was also the reason that the door wouldn't shut all the way. The trunk wouldn't open, the air conditioner didn't work, and one of the windows wouldn't roll down. Overall, it was 4 wheels and a radio.

Brooklyn looked at it and sighed…again. _He_'d never had a problem with his car before. It had gotten him from point A to point B with limited interruptions for the last year or so. However, he was beginning to see the smirks as his classmates walked by, watching yank on the door handle and nearly fall on his ass when it gave. He needed a new car. That meant he needed a job. Which, in turn, meant he was screwed. Nobody hired until you were 16.

Carelessly, he tossed his bag into the passenger seat and fell limply in behind the steering wheel. Brooklyn leaned his head gently against the plastic so as not to leave a mark on his brow. It was relatively cool from having sat in the shade and it helped to quell the headache that always seemed to appear around fourth period.

Suddenly, there was a 'THUNK' on his windshield that made him jump violently. He looked around the parking lot to see if someone had thrown something at him but nobody was looking in his direction.

Curious, but cautious, he climbed back out of the car and spotted the offending object resting uncertainly on his dented hood. As he watched, it slipped off over the wheel-well. He tried to catch it but was too slow and earned a burning cut on the back of his hand from the jagged and rusted metal for his effort.

He watched the blood leak lazily out of the cut and slide down his wrist. "This is all your fault," he growled, scowling down at the notebook. Irritably, he retrieved it from the pavement and tossed it into the car next to his bag. Luckily, he'd stuffed a box of Kleenexes beneath his seat and used one to clean up his hand a little.

By the time he climbed back into his car, only the vehicles belonging to the school staff and the baseball/softball team remained in the parking lot. Feeling a small, unreasonable flicker of paranoia, he started the car and pulled out onto the busy street.

He made his way through the city and, while sitting at a stoplight, he found himself staring at the notebook. It was a simple, black notebook, slightly out of place for not being spiral-bound. Its cover was dusted lightly with sand-colored dirt that didn't match Iowa's black soil and it was crumpled slightly from use. A horn blast caught his attention. The light was green.

He got moving and got onto the highway, carefully turning off at a gravel road and heading home. That's when he got startled for the second time that day. He was already traveling 60 (far faster than recommended folks), so when an enormous black _thing_ flew down from the sky right at him he closed his eyes and slammed on the brakes. The car fishtailed out of control and he had to open his eyes again to keep it from going in the ditch.

He brought it to a crooked stop in the middle of the road and worked to control his breathing. Then, there was a small 'thunk' on the roof and the car shook slightly as if something had perched above him. Instinctively, he looked up.

A head—once again, _suddenly_—came _through_ the roof of his car and stared upside-down at him. Circular yellow eyes watched him carefully and wide, goofy-looking lips worked as if attempting to smother a grin at the sight of his terror. They failed. Black, spiky hair half disappeared through the steering wheel and contrasted greatly with its deadly pale skin. "Give me back my notebook."

Brooklyn's throat closed and he nearly turned blue from lack of oxygen. Finally, when he regained control of his respiratory system, he formed his reply.

He screamed.

The creature grimaced and Brooklyn slammed his body against his door. It opened surprisingly easy this time and he tumbled out of it onto the gravel. He gave another scream when he spotted the rest of the creature on the top of his car. Decked out in black leather with unnaturally long limbs and large wings extending from the humanoid back, it removed its head from inside the car and looked at him.

With another poorly-suppressed grin, it jumped off his car, causing the Buick to rock violently back and forth, and landed before him. "Give me back my notebook," it repeated.

Terror still whirring in him, he managed to coax out some coherent thoughts and—eventually—words. "R-Ryuk?"

* * *

Brooklyn roared up his unnecessarily long driveway and skidded to a stop just outside of the plain 2-story farmhouse. The sheep were bleating at him, expecting to be fed. He almost ignored them. Almost. He did his chores (feeding, watering, and cleaning the pens) in 10 minutes flat, rushed inside to take a 5-minute shower, and seated himself at his desk, laptop before him and notebook clenched in his hand…. The Death Note clenched in his hand….

He began to flip through the notebook as the computer loaded. It was filled with names, hastily scratched onto each page. After about 20 pages he found what he was looking for.

_Light Yagami_

At least, that's what he thought it said. He couldn't be sure. It was written in Japanese. However, a quick check on a fan-sight would prove it. Logging on to one of these servers, he found a snapshot from the anime. It matched the notebook perfectly. Brooklyn studied the page in fascination. It had the same number of lines, the same tilt to the letters….

"You stupid, incompetent, irritating little human! Give me back my death note! …And tell me how you know my name!" Brooklyn blinked in surprise. He'd almost forgotten about Ryuk. The shinigami was currently throwing a fit—pacing, walking through walls, and screaming orders at the top of his lungs.

"Here." Brooklyn went to his bookshelf and retrieved the first volume of the manga, tossing it on the bed in front of Ryuk. As the shinigami began to quietly flip through it, he retrieved a basket of apples from the kitchen and placed it on his dresser.

The change was remarkable. Somewhere in the minute and a half that he was gone, Ryuk had quieted down and settled in a comfortable position on his bed. The death god was currently admiring a picture of himself. "I didn't know they wrote a book about us…." He snatched an apple from the basket and munched on it contentedly as he looked for more pictures of himself.

"And I didn't know you were real." Brooklyn sat in front of his computer again and watched Ryuk. "Read the fine print right before the title page."

Ryuk glared at him. How dare this _human_ give _him_ an order. Brooklyn shrunk timidly. With a sigh, the curious shinigami heeded the suggestion. Immediately things didn't seem right. "Story by Tsugumi Ohba? Who's that? ... Takeshi Obata? … Hold on a second!" Ryuk turned to Brooklyn. "This book's copyright is 2003. I didn't kill Light until 2010!"

"It's only 2008, Ryuk. Keep reading."

"…The stories, characters and incidents mentioned in this publication are entirely fictional…. Hey!" Ryuk lost control of himself momentarily and fell through the bed. Brooklyn couldn't help but chuckle slightly at this. "What do they mean fictional?! Those bastards had better wait 'til I get my hands on them!"

"Ryuk." Brooklyn attempted to draw the shinigami's attention away from the book. "That's just a story. There was never any Kira here. To the rest of the world; you, Light, and this notebook aren't and never were real." He held up the notebook as if it offered proof of what he was saying. "But they'll learn soon enough. The mere presence of Kira in the novel reduced crime by… what was it… 70? And there's no L here in the real world. I'm going to clean things up around here and _I_ won't get caught like Light did. So I guess you get to spend the rest of my life here in the human world, Ryuk."

The shinigami watched the child's thoughts whirling. He could see the gears turning in the boy's head. And churning right along beside them was his life-span, rolling forward and backward uncertainly. He'd never seen this kind of thing happen before but it looked like things were going to get interesting….

Brooklyn spoke up, snapping the shinigami from his pondering. "First things first, let's send out a warning…."

He spun on the swiveling chair and shut down every other application on the computer. He rested his fingers on the keyboard, as if about to begin something important, but seemed to think better of it. Instead, he shut the computer down and closed it. Ryuk followed him around the room as he gathered the notebook; a pen; a second, regular notebook; and a laptop carrying case. He packed the afore-mentioned items into the bag along with the laptop.

"Where are we going?" Okay, so he was curious now. This kid thought he could do better than Light? He didn't look all that intelligent….

Brooklyn grabbed a sticky note and stuck it on the front door. He paused a moment in thought. "Hmm…. Good question, Ryuk. Why don't we go to the movies?" And that's what he wrote. Then, he climbed into his car, Ryuk stuffing himself into the passenger seat.

They followed the highway for about 30 miles, entered a larger city, and pulled into the parking lot of a small coffee shop. A small sign in the window proclaimed that free wireless internet service was provided.

It wasn't an impressive place. The floors were stained with spilled coffee, there was chewing gum under the tables, and the incompetent-looking cash register was guarded by a kid with an excessive number of holes in his face. Ryuk's keen sense of smell picked up the stench of Marijuana clinging to the kid's clothes but he was soon far too distracted admiring the thick bar that ran through his tongue.

Brooklyn ordered a cup of cheap coffee that was more to gain access to the wireless internet than to drink. In fact, he probably wouldn't touch it at all. And true to this sentiment, it was abandon across the 2-man table as Brooklyn opened up his internet connection. He checked the battery real quick, made sure all other applications were down and was about to begin when he was interrupted.

"Why did we come all the way here for the internet? Didn't you have that at your house?" Ryuk's voice was bordering on whining, having achieved the almighty 'are we there yet?' tone.

Brooklyn glared at the shinigami in his peripheral and, reluctantly, opened up a Word document.

_You can't speak to me when we're in public, Ryuk. You know that. You went through the same thing with Light._

Ryuk groaned. He hated this part of the deal. "You're kidding me. The place is empty except for that guy," the gothic shinigami jerked a thumb in the direction of the cashier, "and I highly doubt that _anything_ would look suspicious to him at the moment. He's taken a little field trip."

_You can never be too cautious. Besides, I need to get into the habit. I can't go blurting things out randomly in the middle of class or something like that._

Ryuk returned the boy's glare. If he was smart enough to do what Light couldn't, surely he wouldn't be stupid enough to do something like that. "Whatever. Just tell me what you're doing and why we had to come all the way here to do it." He saw Brooklyn try and fail to smother a grin.

_I may not have many talents, Ryuk, but you're about to witness one. We're going to hack into one of the most well-protected computer systems and leave a little note._

The shinigami barely had enough time to read the statement before Brooklyn closed the document and focused entirely on the screen. He probably didn't notice the college couple walk in a few minutes later and start talking to the cashier, but it hardly mattered. There was nothing suspicious about a teenage boy sitting at a run-down coffee shop with a full cup of cold coffee, on his computer… hacking into the FBI….


	3. And So It Begins

Hi! Sorry it took so long. I have a horrible habit of falling into and out of moods with my stories. I actually really liked this one and I just couldn't focus on it. Anyhoo... please enjoy the chapter and feel free to re-read the previous chapters if you've forgotten the events due to my long absence.

PS: It may not be as well-written as the first chapters because I had half of it typed up earlier, so I kind of jumped in half way. My apologies! And thank you for the excellent reviews from last time! I love you guys!

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_**Chapter 3: And So It Begins**_

_Storm Lake, Iowa_

_May 26__th__ 2008, 3:57pm_

Brooklyn collapsed unceremoniously into the beat-up old lazy-boy in his living room, exhausted. He'd only gotten about 2 hours of sleep last night. He'd spent the better part of the evening hacking into an FBI website (a feat whose methods you, my innocent little readers, need know nothing about) and setting up a blank program that would send out an alert whenever someone tried to access the site:

_May 26__th__, 6:00 pm: Kira begins judgment_

He'd then erased all evidence of hacking from his laptop, returned home, and locked himself in his room. He was up until 3:00 painstakingly selecting the perfect criminals with which to make his debut.

After all that stress, school seemed to exist solely to prevent him from obtaining the sleep he so desperately wanted. Though, he doubted he would have gotten much sleep, even if he'd had the opportunity. Like Light, Brooklyn was experiencing the extreme paranoia that cascaded over into restlessness and left him with that perpetual 'I think I left the oven on' feeling. Even now—as exhausted as he was—his mind was whirling, going over every step he'd taken in his hacking, every name he'd written.

It might surprise you to know (and it certainly surprised Brooklyn) that he didn't remember the names or faces of _any_ of the criminals, but he'd remembered their crimes. Oh yes, he remembered that. Every last one had been gruesome enough that they should've been killed 7 times over now in the most painful ways one could imagine.

But Brooklyn figured a single heart attack would have to do.

He was suddenly snapped from his thoughts by an exaggerated groan. His younger sister, Serena, was about 12 years old and had dark hair similar to his own, unnaturally light blue eyes, and was a little chubby. She outweighed him and was able to easily overpower him, something she never failed to hold over his head. Getting beat up by a senior jock was bad… getting beat up by your younger sister? Well, you can imagine.

She hit the floor with both hands. "10:00?! But that's my bedtime!" This afternoon, when he'd gotten to the parking lot, she'd been there waiting in the passenger seat of his car. After a particularly long ride home occupied by her incessant rambling, she'd proceeded to launch herself from the car and plant herself in front of the TV, where he found her half an hour later after doing chores and taking a shower.

Brooklyn sighed at her temper tantrum. "Your show is on at _9:00_. Remember the time… difference." He froze and paled significantly. _'Shit…'_

Serena took a moment from her not-so-private celebration to watch her brother tear up the stairs to his room. "…Brook…?"

* * *

_Undisclosed Location, Iowa_

_May 26__th__ 3:58pm_

Professor John A Williams was sitting behind his oversized desk grading his third stack of papers when he saw it. As a former FBI agent with several reliable connections still available, he'd heard about the hacking and decided to do what he could: ask his students.

After turning in his badge for a gold watch, teaching a Criminal Investigations class at a small-town community college only seemed natural. Here, he quietly prepared the young for the horrors that nobody should have to face. And as such, he made his course very difficult. However, in the end there was only so much one could expect from high schoolers who were just checking out the lifestyle. And as young and innocent and indecisive as they were, many were very sharp and provided several good insights he could have used while working the cases.

So he—rather conspicuously—handed out classified information in the form of his end-of-term test. He was feeling rather disappointed with some of his students' scores and was relying on his best student's test to bring up the class average.

Jerri Haskins was a tiny, 16-year-old junior who'd scored no less than 96% on any test he'd ever given her, but no more than 37% on participation. She was an excellent investigator and could recall sections of text, word-for-word, at a moments notice, but she was just so quiet....

As expected, she had regurgitated everything he'd told her and what she'd read in the textbook about tracking down hackers. It was exactly the answer he'd been looking for. But what drew his attention most was what she'd managed to cram in after-ward:

_PS: I didn't know you read Death Note._

'Death Note?' Professor Williams frowned. Curious, he opened his laptop and Googled it.

* * *

_25 miles away_

_6:08_

Jerri sighed contentedly as the warm water gushed over her. It had been a long day. It began with 6 end-of-the-year tests and ended with a fare-well soccer practice in which the girls' team had scrimmaged the boys'. It had been so hot outside she thought she would die. She'd been drenched in sweat after 5 minutes.

Reluctantly, she got out of the shower, toweled off, and put on some way-too-big sweatpants and an even bigger shirt, confident that she would freeze in the approaching summer heat that convinced her father to take full advantage of the air-conditioners.

She'd just settled on the couch when the doorbell rang. Sighing again—this time in irritation—she got up to answer it. Halfway up the stairs of her split-level house it rang impatiently again. "Coming!" She called, certain they couldn't hear her. She yanked open a door and glanced across the 5-foot wide enclosed porch to a second door. It was guarded by 2 impressively-built men in excessively expensive black suits and similar-colored shades. Professor Williams stood behind them, looking no less grim or out of place in the small rural town.

She reached out and hesitantly opened the door. "Ms. Haskins? FBI. We have some questions for you."

* * *

An hour later, Jerri found herself aboard a private jet, pulling off of the run-way of the nearest airport. The 2 FBI guys sat across from her. One was sitting in a huge leather chair. He was huge with grey-streaked hair. He was typing furiously on a laptop. The other was a scrawnier guy with dark hair. He was draped lazily over the couch directly across from her, ignoring the seatbelt light. Professor Williams was next him.

"Hey, Boss," the scrawny FBI guy asked. 'Boss' gave a grunt to show that he was listening. "What exactly is it that this little girl is supposed to show us that we can't find out on our own?"

Jerri frowned but said nothing, instead turning her attention to a large-screen TV hovering above their heads flashing a report of the criminals who had died of a heart attack in the last 2 hours. The larger FBI agent gestured to Professor Williams. "Ask him."

FBI Guy 2 turned to face the other direction. "Same question."

Professor Williams sighed and they all saw that he was suddenly uncertain. "Ms. Haskins here has found a connection between a book series and the deaths of the criminals."

"Which book?"

Professor Williams shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "It's called Death Note."

"It's a comic book." 3 pairs of eyes turned in Jerri's direction. She was still watching the news. "Takes place in Japan... write their name in a notebook and they die..."

"Wait, wait, wait." FBI guy 2 sat up straight. "We flew halfway across the country to talk to a little girl about a very important case that you think is related to a _comic book_?"

"Yes." He gave her a skeptical look and glanced pleadingly at his boss, who just shrugged. "Well this should be exciting...." Jerri fished around in the backpack at her feet and pulled out the first book in the series, tossing it across the aisle to him._ If he thinks this is going to be easy, he's sadly mistaken._

* * *

By the time another hour had passed, all 3 of the FBI agents were crammed onto the couch reading the second book in the Death Note series. They only had one book so they had to share. Poor guys.... Oh well, after L's TV debut, they at least seemed slightly more interested. Meanwhile, CNN had dedicated a portion of their screen to the mysterious deaths of criminals across the globe. So far, they'd managed to get a hold of profiles of 32 of the criminals. Jerri had taken over control of FBI Guy 1's laptop and was looking through what was probably top secret information.

There were about 85 profiles on the computer and more came in every minute via e-mail. There was also information on the hacking of the FBI's website. Well, there was a line or 2 telling the reader that there was no information regarding the hacking. There had been a false program that was easy enough to dismantle, but they had been unable to back-trace the connection.

As far as Jerri could tell, there had been one death every minute from 5:00-7:00 that night. As each profile came in, she rearranged them in order of the time they died. There seemed to be a pattern of the deaths in the second hour. All of them had been convicted of numerous violent crimes. Several were on death row, the rest had received life sentences, and all but 3 were in the United States--no, 4. There was a new profile in the inbox.

On the other hand, the deaths in the first hour had no obvious pattern. Fewer than 30 profiles were available, compared to the second hour which now had 57. Several were violent crimes, however, many were not. There were 3 men killed after being convicted of involuntary manslaughter (accidentally killing someone like leaving your baby in the car), 3 more men convicted of statutory rape (sex with minor), and one man had not been convicted at all.

She paid special attention to this case. The man was supposed to go on trial for the murder of his girlfriend tomorrow. Unable to pay bail, he'd had to spend his remaining time in a holding cell in a Georgia County jail.

The crimes weren't the only inconsistencies in the deaths in the first hour. Some of the men were minors charged in juvenile court. There was even one boy who'd been 13 at the time of his crime. She also noticed that there were no women among the victims yet and rolled her eyes. Men. _Chivalry is dead (or it should be)! _

"I can't do this anymore!" Professor Williams stood and stretched with a grimace. "This is making me sick. I gotta use the head. Excuse me." He made his way through the aisle to the back of the plane where the bathrooms were. _Professor Williams was a marine. That explains a lot. _He'd never been particularly laid-back or patient.

"I agree," Boss-man said. "Let's take a break." They both stood and walked up and down the aisle a few times before settling back into their seats. "May I please have my laptop back."

Jerri blushed. "Sorry. I shouldn't have taken it. I opened your e-mails. Again, sorry." She held it out to him and her took it, scanning over the multiple applications currently opened on the screen. There were 3 different internet pages open displaying various criminals, a power-point presentation containing all of the profiles, his e-mail, a Kira website, and a final site that offered cheap copies of the Death Note series.

With her access to information gone, Jerri began to study the notes she'd taken in a spiral-bound notebook. Suddenly, the seatbelt light came on and the pilot announced that they'd be landing soon. She pulled out her cell phone to look at the time and frowned. 9:30. They weren't supposed to be landing until past 10:00. _They must have forgotten to change their watches. _This gave her an idea. _Maybe the first criminals killed were sporadic because Kira also forgot to factor in the time._

_

* * *

_

__

_Storm Lake, Iowa_

_May 27__th__ 2008, 12:43am_

Brooklyn sat in his living room in the dark, watching the news reports. Somehow, it was hard to believe that _he_ was the one who had caused this uproar. _He _was Kira. They claimed that the death toll was into the 90's now. There were still 30 more bodies out there to find, 30 more 'victims' to parade across the TV screen. It made him sick. Those people who were dying deserved it. They had spent their whole lives making the people around them victims. They struck fear into the hearts of everyone they met. They were living, breathing horror stories. He was saving them all. He was a hero.

He was sorry to those victims he had to write in at the last minute. He couldn't be sure that they all deserved death for what they'd done. He hadn't had time to check. The media was sure to find a sob story in there somewhere but it wouldn't matter. Just like in the manga, the world would turn to him for justice. The world would support him someday. But that day wasn't today. For now, he had to remain anonymous.

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Okay that's all for this chapter. Please feel free to send me a nasty e-mail if I don't update in 2 weeks. That's my goal! Please help keep me going this time!

PS: Sorry it was so segmented. I had to change scene so much. You're probably all horribly confused. If you need me to clarify anything send me a PM or leave it in a review! Thank you!


	4. In this Corner

Okay, So here comes chapter 4! I made it in my 2 weeks! But you came here for the story.... Enjoy!

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**_Chapter 4: In This Corner..._**

_Washington D.C._

_May 27th 2008, 1:42am_

"Senator, we're working on it." FBI Guy 1 was currently doing everything in his power to get rid of the nosy, greasy-haired man currently sitting across from him in the limo. They'd been driving around DC for 2 hours now, taking the senator's abuse and interrogations with as much grace as possible. But as he continued to point out the most obvious investigative routes and demand answers they did not have, patience was wearing thin.

"Mr. Ketlin, you have nothing! It's been 6 hours since the first death--."

"7," FBI Guy 2 supplied, trying not to fall asleep.

"Thank you, Mr. Miller," Ketlin growled in a clear 'shut the hell up' tone. "Senator, I apologize for being so rude but the task force is striking in the dark right now and we need to be there to help. I'm afraid there's nothing more I can tell you. Please, we need to return to the FBI headquarters."

Senator Rosbun looked ready to spit. "Fine! Let's hope someone there can do your job."

Ketlin rapped on the small partition between them and the driver. It rolled down slightly, not exposing the sleeping Ms. Haskins in the passenger seat to Rosbun. "Back to the senator's house please, Rick."

"Yes, sir." The window rolled up. Miller glanced out of the heavily tinted windows and judged that it would be at least another 5 minutes back to the mansion Rosbun called home. Why a guy would need 4 acres and 3 stories for him and his wife was beyond Miller. Come to think of it, he didn't understand how Rosbun got married in the first place, especially when said wife was H-O-T.

"The other senators will hear of this!" Rosbun promised. "You brought in a retired agent, you haven't apprehended the hacker yet, and you don't even know how all of those criminals were killed! Let me guess, you're still considering the possibility of this being a coincidence?"

"Sir, we believe Mr. Williams will help us answer those questions and we have the best computer technicians in the country tracing the source of the hacking but it's going to take time."

"Yes, well, while you're floundering around in the dark, people are dying!" The car drew to a stop and there were 2 soft knocks on the partition.

"We're here, Senator." He stood, furious, and stalked over to the door, slamming it shut behind him. With a heavy sigh, Ketlin rubbed his brow. "Missing this part of the job yet Williams?"

They both gave a soft chuckle. "Not in the slightest."

The partition rolled down fully this time. "Back to HQ, sir?"

"Yeah, Rick. And if there are anymore senators that want to talk to us, tell them to go to hell." The driver laughed and rolled the partition back up. It took nearly three quarters of an hour to get through the traffic and make it to the other side of the city. Miller was stretched out in the back seat snoring and even Ketlin and Williams had nodded off. It was 3:00am when they finally pulled into the FBI's garage, adding to the already impressive motor pool.

All of them woke up with headaches and headed straight to the elevator, punching the button to the second floor where they break room was. They needed coffee. Jerri politely declined the styrofoam cup and reviewed her notes in an attempt to wake up. She suddenly remembered the fate of most of the SPK members whose names and faces had been discovered. Immediately, she was awake.

"Um... sir?" she asked uncertainly.

"Don't call me 'sir'."

"What do you want me to call you?"

Ketlin blinked. "Right, I forgot you weren't there when we introduced ourselves. I'm--."

"Um, excuse me, but... please don't tell me your real name." They all blinked and nodded. It was probably a good thing to get in the habit of using false names.

"Right. Uh... sir works for now."

10 minutes later the group of 4 arrived on the 4th floor. FBI Guy 1 paused outside of a heavy door and punched a code into the security system on the wall to the right. The door clicked and they opened it, entering into another hallway, depositing all electronics, and punching in another code. Once again, the door clicked and they entered. Suddenly, a wave of sound hit them. Sound-proof walls. The second door must have been to make sure that no information leaked from the room.

Said room was enormous. 3 huge computers were crammed up against the right wall there was a 12-by-4 bulletin board on the far wall and several small tables in the center of the room. The far side of the room was completely open except for the 10 people scurrying back and forth. To the left there was a bathroom; a large, sound-proof conference room; and another sound-proof room stacked with sleeping bags.

"Ms. Haskins," FBI Guy 1 turned to her. "You may go get some sleep in that room over there." He indicated the one in the far corner. "We won't need your expertise for another couple of hours at least."

"No thank you, sir. If you don't mind, I'd like to continue looking over the profiles of the victims. Could I borrow your laptop or something?"

Ketlin gave her a long look. "I never asked what side you were on."

Jerri smiled. "I don't support Kira."

"But do you support L?" It was Williams this time. He didn't look entirely happy with her answer. Then again, she reminded herself, that was how he'd been trained. Any answer that wasn't yes/no (and some that were) had more meaning behind it.

"L dies, Professor. I think there may have been something wrong with his approach as well." None of the men looked entirely convinced. "Look, sir, I was raised in the US. This country was built upon contempt of one's superiors. Kira tried to take over the world and L is a cocky, manipulative little shit. I don't trust either of them any more than I trust you."

The 3 men exchanged looks and, hesitantly, Ketlin set his computer on a table and opened it. After a few minutes of searching through his files he stood up straight again. The printer in the corner came to life. Jerri got the message and went to retrieve the papers it spat out. There was an awkward pause and they could tell she'd instilled a distrust among the men. And not just them. Ketlin looked around at the 20+ agents running around like chickens with their heads cut off. How many of them, after dealing with criminals throughout their careers, would be delighted to see them go?

Ketlin cleared his throat in an attempt to disperse the mood and indicated that they should head for the conference room. They were about 20 feet away from the door when it suddenly flew open.

"Director!" All of their eyes widened in surprise as the short, balding, extremely dangerous director of the FBI appeared in the doorway.

"Ketlin! Miller! I need to talk to you!" Both of them flinched and reluctantly followed their boss into the conference room. "Williams! Scott! Scott! You too!" The professor and both of the men on the computers followed. The door slammed firmly shut behind their procession.

"Sit." They sat. Director Shepard stood at the head of the enormous table with a furious look on his face. "I heard about the deaths 6 hours ago from CNN. Since then, I have heard nothing. It seems like nobody knows who, why, or even _how_ all of this has happened. Would somebody like to fill me in?"

It wasn't a question. It was an order. They all fell silent and looked in different directions, memorizing every flaw in the wall plaster. It was like they were back in junior high, being scolded for falling asleep in class.

"You 2! Any leads on the hacking?" He pointed to the Scott twins. It was kind of ironic that 2 hippie surfer dudes would be so good with computers....

"Nothing," they answered simultaneously.

"We tried to backtrace him-."

"But the servers are down in China."

"They should be back online tomorrow night."

"We mean tonight."

"Yeah."

"It took us a while to find the right thread."

"He thinks he's sneaky."

"But we'll get him."

Director Shepard didn't look pleased with the answer. "You have 3 hours." They didn't argue. No point. "Williams, I haven't seen you in years! Why are you here?"

"I'm teaching a criminal justice class at a community college. One of my students has a lead."

"Finally some progress!" He turned to Ketlin and Miller. "I take it this lead is yours as well?"

"Yes, sir."

"And?"

Williams produced the first Death Note volume and slid it across the smooth glass table to the director. "In this book, the main character kills criminals by inducing heart attacks.... But there's a problem."

"Of course there is!"

"More than one, actually. He doesn't need to get anywhere near his victims. All he needs to know is their name and face. Also, the book discusses several methods of finding the killer, none of which we can assume will work now." He hesitated. "Not to mention the moral implications. After all, sir, they're criminals."

"What fresh bull shit is that? Your job is to find that bastard and let a judge decide what to do with him."

"Not me, sir...."

The director sighed and ran a hand across his brow. "Yeah, I know." He picked up the book and frowned, thumbing through it. "A comic book?"

"You need to read it."

"Right. Anything else?"

"No, sir."

"Then get back to work." They all scurried out immediately, hoping to avoid any further abuse. They failed. "Oh, and by the way, I'll be taking the lead on this case."

* * *

_Storm Lake, IA_

_May 27th, 8:28 am_

Brooklyn got out of his car that morning feeling like a new man. He wasn't more confident necessarily--but he felt significantly more powerful. As he walked the halls he saw names flash before his eyes and his fingers kept twitching toward his bag. He was shocked to find a pen in his hand. _When had he...?_

Shaking his head, he put it away. Anyway, with a flick of his pen he could make them all disappear. Just like that. The thought made his heart race. For once, he was the stronger one. Anyone who picked on him, anyone who teased him, they could be gone in an instant.

The school was alive with talk about the deaths. They were talking about him. Little Sebrina Gale was preaching in the hallway about the Death Note, but unpopular and outspoken as she was about saving the whales and other such vegetarian views, only a handful even bothered to listen. "Kira is evil!" she exclaimed, holding out the first volume of the series as if it were a bible.

Red flashed across his vision and he had to physically bite his tongue to keep himself from arguing. Nobody liked Sebrina, nobody listened to her. Besides, even with all of her protest, her life would improve from here on out because Kira was watching. He was watching the murderers and the bullies and they would shrink back into their own pathetic worlds sooner or later. With any luck, they would stay there, where they couldn't harm anyone except themselves.

Today's headache came significantly faster and he thought he was going to puke by the time he crawled groggily into his car. Finals had been murder and he was deeply considering laying there for another couple of hours. When nobody was looking, Ryuk jumped onto the hood of his car much the same way he'd done the day they first met. He groaned as the car rocked beneath the shinigami's weight.

"Ryuk, I'm going to project vomit through your face!"

With a soft chuckle, the god of death phased through the car and settled into the back seat. Brooklyn shivered as Ryuk's leg went through his chest. It made his heart freeze up a moment. With another groan he sat up, reluctantly turning on the engine. _Tomorrow's the last day. We watch the seniors graduate, help clean everything up, and screw around. I only have to survive that much longer._

_

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_

Okay, sorry I'm ending there. I need to go through a bit more of L's side before we can really delve into Brooklyn's world but it's coming! I promise!


	5. Personal

Hey guys! Um... sorry I haven't updated! Here's the next chapter! It's kind of long and really terrible but I hope you'll bear with me.... You may want to re-read the previous chapters so that you can get back on track 'cause I suck at updating and you probably don't remember it. heheh... Sorry!

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_**Chapter 5: Personal**_

_Washington DC_

_May 27th 2008, 7:42am_

Director Shepard sighed heavily and put the now finished 3rd volume of Death Note down on the table in front of him and took his last mouthful of cold coffee. He was alone in the conference room with the large stack of comic books to his right. Volumes 4 - 13. A shipment would arrive in a few hours with enough books to supply all those on the task force. Expensive, but necessary and surely noted by the press.

Glancing at his watch, he stood and began to stretch. He'd given the Scott twins a good 4 or 5 hours to make their progress and he had to send that girl back home. At first, he'd been infuriated when he discovered that Williams had actually brought Ms. Haskins to FBI HQ. Did he not know what danger he'd put her in and how much he'd compromised the case? His fury had lessened some after Ketlin assured him that she didn't know any of their names. He'd then expressly instructed to all agents not to introduce themselves to her.

Mr. Shepard groaned and cracked his back before making his way to the door. Outside the conference room's sound-proof walls, people were buzzing around relentlessly and he had to grab 6 people who ran past him and tell them to get some sleep before they collapsed.

He made his way across the conference room to the Scott brothers and stood behind them as they typed commands furiously into their enormously expensive super computer. (A/N I've decided to change this part a little. 1 system, 3 monitors) "Paul!" he growled. "Show me what you've got!"

Paul winced and reached for the mouse, bringing up another window and allowing it to cover the screen. His brother Jim came over, followed by Ketlin, Miller, and Williams. "Okay, so basically what we have here is 5 possible areas."

"The hacker piggy-backed on another connection and could have been in any one of those branches," Jim offered.

"It would take years to sort through all of this data and find the right guy."

The Director sighed and rubbed his brow, leaning heavily on the back of Paul's chair. "So we had 300 million suspects and we now have 50 million."

"Sorry, sir. We'll keep trying."

Suddenly a voice from the back spoke up and a small hand pointed to the screen. "What about that one?" They all turned around to look at Jerri who'd been sleeping in a ball in the corner a minute ago, surrounded by papers.

Paul cleared his throat and began to type more, bringing the area up on the screen. It covered the area where the North Dakota, South Dakota, and Iowa borders met. "That connection was the sharpest and we should be able to narrow it down to a 10 square-mile radius but we found it hard to believe that there would be a lot of hackers in the area. It's primarily agricultural and there aren't a lot of computer geeks there that would be capable of hacking our system."

"Why do you ask?" Jim questioned curiously.

"Just a theory." Paul continued to type away and the large red circle began to shrink slowly, pulling more into Iowa.

"Theory?" the Director demanded.

Jerri jumped at the volume of his voice before proceeding to explain. "In the second hour of the killings, all of the criminals were extremely dangerous. Serial killers, mass murderers, psychos, etc.... But in the first hour, all of the victims seemed to be chosen... almost at random. 3 had been convicted of statutory rape, 3 were convicted of involuntary manslaughter, and one man hadn't been convicted at all."

Shepard crossed his arms impatiently. "And how does that help us narrow down the search area?"

Jerri turned to her professor. "Mr. Williams, what does your watch say?"

He narrowed his eyes and glanced at his watch, expecting a trick question. "07:00, but I haven't..." His eyes widened and he turned to the screen, inspecting it. "He's in the Central Time Zone!"

Jerri nodded and continued to watch the giant red circle shrink, pulling almost completely into Iowa now. It continued to favor the east side of it's bubble. Had Kira really been so close? A 3 hour drive from home?

A large hand landed on her shoulder and she jumped, looking up at Mr. Shepard. "When did you figure that out?"

She shrugged and turned her attention back to the monitor. "On the plane."

They all exchanged looks but continued to watch the screen. It was now hovering over Cherokee County. Suddenly, there was a beeping sound and several windows began to pop up on the screen, obscuring their view. "Virus!" Paul shouted. "Jim, help!"

Jim took 2 long strides over to his monitor, kicked the chair out of the way, and set to work as well. Within 20 seconds Paul had closed every application he was running and shut down his part of the system. Abandoning his own chair, he went to peer over his brother's shoulder. Jim almost looked like he was playing a video game. "Almost got him.... Damn!"

Both brothers sighed heavily and went limp. "The defense systems in this thing are incredible. The minute it sensed a virus it kicked it out of the system."

"I tried to back trace it but it shut itself down. Even if we renew the search, it'll attack again."

"This is as close as we could get." the group went to hover around the other monitor. 3 cities were still highlighted, as well as much of the countryside.

"Aurelia, Cherokee, and Meriden," the director mumbled. "How many of the residents in the county have internet connections?"

"Too many," Jim replied.

"But if he was even halfway smart, he wouldn't have used his own connection."

"Internet cafe?"

"That was always our favorite." The brothers both grinned widely.

"So Kira could be anywhere?" Miller asked.

They all exchanged glances. Maybe this hadn't helped as much as they'd thought it would.... "Pretty much." Jim did some more typing. "It looks like there's an internet cafe in Meriden and 2 in Cherokee. He could be anywhere within driving distance of one of those." They all let out a disappointed breath they hadn't known they'd been holding.

Suddenly the door to their right opened and Rick popped his head in. "Director? Your limo will be ready in 20 minutes."

Mr. Shepard nodded and Rick pulled his head out. "Where are you going?" Williams asked.

"Not that it's any of your business but I have a press conference at 9:00."

Jerri shifted uncomfortably. "Are you sure that's a good idea? Posting your name and face all over national TV in a public display against Kira.... You remember what happened to Lind L. Taylor?"

It was the director's turn to shift uncomfortably. "No, I'm not sure it's a good idea, but it is a necessary one. People want to know what's going on."

"What are you going to say?" Shepard turned to Ketlin.

"Whatever I need to. I'll wait for them to ask the questions. Unless you had any ideas?" The men all shook their heads. "What about you, Ms. Haskins? Any other epiphanies I should know about?"

She smiled. "Only suggestions."

"Go on."

"Why don't you mention L. Tell the public that we have one. It will put pressure on Kira, forcing him to make a move. It will also focus his attention. He'll believe that there's only one real threat out there. Hopefully, this will cause him to be sloppy or underestimate the rest of us--I mean, you."

"And who is going to play L?" He rose an eyebrow. Was she trying to stay in the investigation?

"That's the point, sir. There isn't one. Tell people that your best detective is leading the investigation, that you're simply overseeing things. Tell them he's your 'Modern-Day L'."

* * *

"Brooklyn! Follow Karina. You can help the Seniors pick up trash outside." Reluctantly, Brooklyn got up and followed the tall, pretty senior out of the classroom and down the hall toward the front doors. She wouldn't even look at him as he pushed his glasses up on his nose. Every year, the seniors got the easiest job and every year they requested 'help', which basically meant that half a dozen or so underclassmen did the work expected of a 60 person class.

As expected, when they got outside, all of the upper classmen were scattered across the various benches in the courtyard, saying goodbye to their friends or just enjoying the weather. A garbage bag and a sharpened stick were immediately thrust into his face. Reluctantly, he took them and bit back a yelp of pain as he received a swift kick to help him on his way.

He gripped his bag a little tighter and resisted the urge to glare back at the boy. Hesitantly, he left his bag with the Death Note in it in his car. He was still coming up with a way to protect it the way Light had, but for now, he couldn't stand to be away from it.

He must be going crazy. He tried to remind himself of the way Light was at the beginning of the story as he began the mindless task of cleaning that half of the parking lot. Writing all those names.... His strange, erratic behavior at the mention of L.... The famous potato chip eating scene came to mind and he felt a mocking smile tug at his lips.

Light really had been crazy. Living in his own perfect world, he'd failed to properly deal with the evil in the notebook. He hadn't been teased and picked on--hadn't felt control spiral away. But Brooklyn had. He knew what these people were capable of. These criminals. And he'd protect the world from all of them. He didn't want to be a god. No, that was ridiculous. He wanted to be a hero. He would succeed where Light had failed and save everyone.

"You should get a girlfriend."

Brooklyn jumped and looked over at Ryuk who was watching a heated make-out session with great interest. Shaking his head, he stepped out of there earshot and began to mutter to Ryuk, who he was sure could here him just fine. "I don't want a girlfriend. She'd get in the way."

"Light had a girlfriend," Ryuk informed him, still watching the PDA a hundred feet away.

"Light was a fool."

He knew it wasn't true. Light had been very intelligent. He'd done everything possible to avoid detection and then some. But, in the end, he'd failed. In the end, Light had been too weak to handle the notebook. The arrogance instilled by it had been his downfall, just as L's arrogance had caused _his_ death. It wouldn't poison Brooklyn, though. Not him.

Sighing, Brooklyn looked around. All clean. Silently, he made his way over to the bleachers. There was always crap under there. As he drew closer, he heard laughter. However, until he rounded the corner, he didn't recognize the deep voice.

Anthony Jacobson was lounging on the bleachers along with 3 girls. They were tugging on his jacket and competing for his attention. Brooklyn ducked under the bleachers quickly, trying to avoid being seen. A few minutes later they each pecked him on the cheek and ran off to join the rest of the cheerleaders in a very loud, very emotional group hug on the front walkway. He didn't even notice the crunching of sneakers on gravel until Anthony was right behind him.

"Hey there, Myers!" Anthony took a step closer so that their chests were almost touching and snatched the stick out of Brooklyn's hand. The sophomore stumbled backwards and pressed his back to the cement wall of the concession stand. His chances weren't good, it didn't take a genius to see that. He was alone, hidden under the bleachers, and Anthony would graduate today without fear of consequences. "Today's been a good day for me, what about you?"

And it began....

It lasted a full 15 minutes (a personal record for the both of them) and by the time it was over Brooklyn's glasses had been crushed, causing some surprisingly deep cuts on his cheeks; his shirt was torn in several places; he was bleeding heavily from the lip and nose; his jeans were torn at the knee; at least one of his ribs was cracked; and he had a deep wound that went almost completely through his left hand, caused by the stick that had been used to pick up trash for years. Anthony suffered a bruised shin and broke the skin of his knuckles a bit.

Brooklyn lay there on the gravel for a few more minutes, moaning in pain. Anthony disappeared, most likely to seek out his friends and brag. In the distance, he could hear the bell ring. In about 5 more minutes everyone would be gone. He just had to wait a little longer....

5 minutes passed... then 10. He struggled to his feet and began to limp across the parking lot. Most of the seniors--including Anthony--were still loitering out on the school grounds, unwilling to leave their friends for what they were sure would be forever. He made it around the corner of the school without being seen.

_'I have to do it....' _The beaten boy cradled his left hand to his stomach. _'He needs to disappear. Forever. I won't let him hurt anyone else this way.' _He barely made it to his car and almost wasn't able to get the door open. When it finally gave in it threw him backwards into the next car and he collapsed onto the ground, pain shooting through him. He left a bloody smear on the window and had to sacrifice what was left of his shirt to get it off. He didn't want anything connecting him to this.

Carefully, he climbed into the car and pulled off the loose piece of plastic over his radio where, in the absence of the useless wiring, the Death Note was easily rolled and hidden. He gently pulled it out and opened it to a random page. "My blood spilled for you, Anthony." And he wrote the sentence in blood.

_Anthony Jacobson Traffic accident May 27th 3:27_

With 3 minutes to spare, he returned the Death Note to its original location, replaced the plastic, and limped back out to the corner of the building.

It took a moment to find him but Anthony was just shutting the door to his truck. He was walking across the parking lot.... He paused.... Cameron Henze, the school junkie, was driving that giant brown van his way....Anthony knelt down on one knee and held out both arms, a grin on his face.... Tara Olson's 18-month-old girl was running down the sidewalk and sprinted out into the parking lot as fast as her unsteady little legs would carry her.... A loud 'crack' echoed through the grounds as the van's tire popped and the vehicle veered towards him.... Tara screamed.... Anthony saw it and his eyes widened.... A crunching of metal and a dull 'thud' followed.... The little girl began to cry, blood spattered across her face and clothes.

Anthony was dead.


End file.
